Wilson's senses were immediately on overload. He was aware of House's taste, smell, of how his tongue felt in his mouth all at once. Synapses were firing rapidly in his brain; his heart was racing. It was like being on speed without the aftershock or withdrawal.
House could feel Wilson's heart racing, his skin becoming heated like he was on fire. He could taste the coffee on Wilson's tongue, his lips, as he increased the intensity of each kiss. His own heart was racing, and the pain in his leg was almost, for once, non-existent.
Neither of them were sure how much time had passed when they finally broke apart, if for nothing more than to take in lungfuls of air. Wilson tentatively reached over and ran his palm across House's cheek. Blue eyes met brown, and the realization that no words needed to be spoken. There was no need; the feelings were expressed in the gazes toward one another.
This time it was Wilson who leaned in for the kiss. As he thrust his tongue to meet House's, he swung one leg over, so he was straddling House, avoiding House's right leg as much as possible. He placed his hands on House's shoulders, and could feel House's arms encircle his waist, untucking his shirt, finding skin.
Wilson simultaneously rubbed the remaining tension from House's shoulders while continuing the heated kissing. He could feel House's hands become even more territorial; rubbing up and down his back, and then up his torso, encircling his nipples, feeling them grow hard beneath the touch. Wilson could feel the blood rushing southward, and similarly knew House was feeling the same, as he would occasionally lift his hips to connect with Wilson's aching groin.
Wilson opened his eyes to see House watching him, as if he was memorizing every line and crease on Wilson's face; his eyes were filled with lust and need. House broke the kiss and with one quick movement, moved Wilson so that he was lying face up on the couch, positioning himself on top. Wilson shuddered into the touch, the sudden warmth enveloping him; House's hard member pressed into his own. House hummed into Wilson's mouth causing him to gasp and moan.
Suddenly, House stopped, realizing that as hot as this was, it wasn't so great for his leg. He swung up and off of Wilson and grabbed his cane with one hand, and Wilson's hand with the other. Wilson immediately understood and followed House, his hands never leaving some part of his partner's body. He was touching him everywhere at every chance he got; afraid he would wake up and find this to simply be a dream.
Once they reached the bedroom, House propped his cane by the bedside and pulled Wilson to him, kissing him deeply, as if to commit his taste to permanent memory. He unbuttoned Wilson's shirt, and yanked if off of him, and then tossed his own sweatshirt off.
They pressed against one another, warm skin against warm skin. They stood like that for a moment kissing and hands exploring, until House's hand traveled south causing Wilson to moan intensely. House smiled into Wilson's mouth as he kissed him. And as if they were of one mind, they divested themselves of any remaining clothing and tumbled on to the bed, all warm limbs and touches and soft moans.